


forest spirits

by tamagobun



Category: None - Fandom
Genre: Other
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-11-24
Updated: 2017-11-23
Packaged: 2019-02-06 03:21:02
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 8
Words: 297
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12808497
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tamagobun/pseuds/tamagobun





	1. brittle bones

your porcelain bones  
give you away, love

they crack too often  
to hold any air of secrecy


	2. mother

he wishes it were anything other than  
the carefully concealed waver of his mother's voice  
and the way she oh-so-gently picked him apart  
with deliberate and particular phrasing  
so as not to break him in between her searching fingers


	3. rotting on a forest floor

he does not belong here,  
in rooms of static bodies  
where words are thrown without a second thought  
"how can you be so careless with such a delicate thing?" he asks

he thinks he must belong amongst the damp undergrowth of some forest somewhere  
rotting in a tranquil symbiosis   
where fungus takes over his body  
and the hushed whispers of words unspoken ghost his lips


	4. the type of self destruction that feels like an accomplishment

he learned to relish in the discomfort of sitting,  
spine pressing into chair backs to leave bruises  
and the accomplished feeling of pins and needles in his legs


	5. cold hands

Marlboro golds and Twinings earl grey  
become a form of life support  
for someone who can barely stomach the thought  
of anything other than cold


	6. skeletons

breathing becomes a laborious thing in the early hours of morning  
when you exist alongside spirits   
and the skeletons in your closet lose the ability to stand upright


	7. ghost boy pt. 1

he becomes nothing more than a ghost  
shifting in and out of conversations  
mind somewhere off in thyme and carrier pigeons


	8. meadow

pale green buds of something other-than-grass  
icing sugar sparkling in the low sunlight

your clumsy stumble down the hill when you tripped on the blue plaid blanket that you'd brought to shield us from the cold  
your sweaty cheeks glinting in the orange sunrise and my laugh swept away by wind knocking over goldenrod

undisturbed by noisy roads and shouting parents and the static of life

a safe place I will never visit again


End file.
